


A Matter of Taste

by Badwolf36



Category: Natsume Yuujinchou | Natsume's Book of Friends
Genre: Angst, Gen, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, Introspection
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-16
Updated: 2018-01-16
Packaged: 2019-03-05 14:44:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,185
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13390059
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Badwolf36/pseuds/Badwolf36
Summary: “You licked me!” Natsume accuses more loudly, brandishing his spit-shined hand close enough to Madara’s face that his eyes almost cross trying to focus on it. “What on earth would prompt you to lick me?!”





	A Matter of Taste

A millisecond after it happens, Madara freezes in horror.

Tucked into Madara’s broad side, Natsume freezes as well, although it’s likely from a combination of shock (he’d been knocked loopy by an angry ayakashi only minutes earlier) and genuine surprise.

“Sensei?” he asks shakily.

“Don’t say it.”

“Did you just…?”

“Don’t!” Madara snarls.

Natsume stops talking, but that doesn’t stop him from moving his left hand (the one not clutching Madara’s brilliant white fur to stay upright) up to his face and hair. He spends a few seconds trying to smooth down his sandy-colored locks with his fingers before scrubbing at his cheek with the palm of his hand.

“You honestly just…” Natsume says flatly as he looks down at his hand.

Madara cuts him off with a growled, “I’m warning you…”

“You _licked_ me.”

“I did no such thing,” Madara denies.

“You _licked_ me!” Natsume accuses more loudly, brandishing his spit-shined hand close enough to Madara’s face that his eyes almost cross trying to focus on it. “What on earth would prompt you to _lick_ me?!”

And Madara, with all of his years of hard-won wisdom, with all of his strength, with all of sharp wit, is reduced to speechlessness.

Because what had prompted him had been a thoughtless ( _instinctive_ ) desire to comfort the boy.

Mentally, Madara curses meddling ayakashi, Natsume’s pushover nature, and his own stupidity for going along with it all.

The whole situation was the fault of an owl ayakashi named Shiemi. She’d batted her wide eyes at Natsume, and they’d ended up wasting three whole days hunting down some trinket she lost decades ago.

After the twelfth utterly identical forest clearing had failed to yield her prize, Shiemi had lost her tenuous grip on her scattered emotions and started transforming into an evil spirit. In her flailing, one of her wings struck Natsume, throwing the boy into a tree before Madara could catch him.

Madara had struggled to hold her off while Natsume, with his overabundance of sheer dumb luck, discovered Shiemi’s trinket at the base of the tree he’d crumpled to.

Risking his life once again, he’d stepped in front of Madara in a daze and wielded the bracelet of clear blue glass beads like a shield against the raging spirit. At seeing her treasure, Shiemi instantly calmed.

Profuse apologies on Shiemi’s side later, she’d had the audacity to ask for her name back from the Book of Friends as well.

Natsume, despite the fact he was utterly exhausted and in pain (and despite Madara’s vehement protests), returned her name without a fuss. Shiemi disappeared seconds after the deed was done with a swirl of wind and feathers and a thank you.

That had left Natsume trembling on unsteady feet, struggling to stay conscious. Madara had come up alongside him, sweeping Natsume against his flank with a swish of his tail. Natsume’s relief and hurt and fatigue mingling together on his face, he had thanked Madara for once again putting up with him.

And Madara had been overcome with the inane (and possibly insane wish) to ease Natsume's suffering for a moment. Natsume was too young to drink sake ( _his_ favorite personal comfort) and Madara couldn’t come up with anything else he could procure quickly.

Natsume, closing his eyes, had started to list badly to one side, and Madara had leaned over and gently licked him from shoulder to temple.

_Like a pup **.**_

Which brought them to now, with Natsume faintly energized by sheer incredulousness and Madara scrambling for something plausible.

“I was tasting my emergency food supply!” he yells, and then winces in regret. That wasn’t the truth (which he will never, _ever_ speak aloud), but it’s not likely to win him any favors either.

He’s proven right when Natsume’s fist socks him squarely in the nose seconds later. Shifting back to his lucky cat form with a pop of smoke, he gingerly places his paws over his nose, which is already starting to sting.

“I’m _not_ your emergency food supply,” Natsume hisses.

Madara rubs his now-tiny paws over the rapidly reddening spot on his face. “That was uncalled for.”

“That was _completely_ called for,” Natsume retorts, slumping down to his knees.

“Oi, don’t fall asleep here! You probably need a hospital.”

“It’s not that bad.”

“She threw you into a tree!”

Natsume sighs, wrapping his arms around himself. “I’ve had worse.”

And the sad thing is, Madara knows that’s true.

“At least go home and let Touko fuss over you.”

Natsume gets a far-off look in his eyes as he stares at his knees. “She’d worry.”

“Of course she would,” Madara says as he abandons rubbing at his sore nose in favor of trotting over to stand in front of Natsume. He nudges his head against Natsume’s knee, biting his tongue viciously when he thinks about licking the boy again. Or worse, _purring_. “You need someone to worry about you. You’re too dumb to take care of yourself.”

Natsume’s expression turns thoughtful, and he again wipes at his face, his hair already stiffened slightly from Madara’s saliva.

He hits Madara with a shrewd look before he shakes himself and looks away. Quietly, he asks, “Do you worry about me, Nyanko-sensei?”

There’s a question lurking beneath the one that was asked: “ _Am I more to you than just a way to the Book of Friends_?”

The urge to once again comfort Natsume goes to war with his pride. The outcome is inevitable.

Madara huffs in frustration before head-butting Natsume’s knee. “Do you need me to carry you?" he asks, sidestepping all questions.

Natsume seems to take the answer he wants anyways. He smiles at Madara before bending down carefully and pressing his forehead against Madara’s own.

“Thanks, Sensei,” he says, and Madara gets the feeling his gratitude is for more than just the offer. “And no. Just give me a minute and we can go.”

Natsume sits up, calm once again even though pain is pinching his expression and his hair looks particularly ridiculous with the way it’s mussed up on one side.

“Fine,” Madara huffs, taking the few steps necessary to ball himself up in a tight package against Natsume’s right side. He shoves his large head under the teenager’s hand, and is pleased to feel no tremor in the fingers that start stroking behind his ears.

Takashi Natsume makes him feel things he hadn’t in years. All Natsumes, really, male and female. But Takashi Natsume in particular evokes a wide range of (truly annoying) emotions and instincts.

But maybe, Madara muses as Natsume’s fingers manage to scratch his left ear in _just_ the right spot, maybe his instincts aren’t completely without merit. Not if they make a difference for someone who’s become so much more than an emergency food supply.

So Madara doesn’t bother to chastise himself when he leans a little further into Natsume’s side and begins to purr. And if he happens to look up through slitted eyes and catch a small smile on Natsume’s spit-shined face? Well, there’s no one else in the forest to comment on how he purrs a little louder.

**Author's Note:**

> Reviews are loved, so please leave one if you feel the inclination. Thanks for reading!


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